


I'm Here

by pinesinthewoods



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 14:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6473377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinesinthewoods/pseuds/pinesinthewoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper has a nightmare and Stan does what he can to help. (Pre-NWHS)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Here

**Author's Note:**

> This is mildly AU, since Stanley knows who Dipper means when he's talking about Bill before the events of NWHS.

12:00 am was an ungodly hour for someone his age to be awake. Stanley blinked the tiredness out of his eyes and pondered if he should make the trip to the basement that night. Last week he had been pushing himself hard, between the kids, wrangling tourists, and his hours working on the portal. His only reprieve was his afternoon naps in the living room, and usually he was startled awake by Dipper and Mabel. Last time it was because Mabel wanted to watch her favorite television show.  _What was it called? Something with that horror show of a giant star…_

Stan knew he should pace himself, as he had been doing for the last 30 years. But ever since he acquired all of the journals, the finish line was so close, he could almost grasp it. He had just about wept in relief when finally,  _finally_ , that machine had activated, blue light filling the room. The threads of his work had coalesced, and the twins were truly the ones to thank  for it. Without them, he would have never gotten  _either_  of the journals that he had searched so long for. _I have to keep working… I can sleep when I’m dead_. Ignoring the protests of his body and more coherent thoughts, he decided to go down to the kitchen to make some coffee. 

He was watching the coffee brew, trying not to nod off, when he heard a scream come from the kids room. It wasn’t one that could be shrugged off as the children playing. It  was a scream full of raw terror, and it struck him to the core, awakening some sort of primal paternal instinct that never got much exercise until the twins arrived. Without another thought, he raced up the stairs, wishing he had his brass knuckles with him. 

Stan burst into their room, hackles raised, eyes swiveling around for any sign of danger. He didn’t see any large hulking monsters, or ghostly apparitions. Moonlight filtered through the small triangular window  and dimly illuminated the twins.  They were huddled together on Dipper’s bed. Stan felt momentary relief at the lack of supernatural presence, but his concern flared again when he saw the kids in obvious distress. Dipper in particular was curled in on himself, knees pulled up to his chest. Stan heard him sobbing quietly. It sounded like he was gasping for breath. Mabel spoke softly to him, eyes wide and glistening with worry,  a startling contrast to her normally optimistic self.  When she looked up and saw Stan, her expression became relieved, as if she knew that he would be able to help her brother. Stan hoped he could, because comforting people wasn’t exactly his strong point. “What’s going on?” he asked in apprehension, his eyes flicking between the twins. “I heard someone scream, must have woke half the forest…”

Mabel spoke up, resting her hand on Dipper’s shoulder as he continued to cry and gasp. “G-Grunkle Stan… He had a nightmare, and-and now he won’t even talk to me…” Her voice was small and quivering. “Usually I can calm him down… b-but I don’t know what to do…he’s having trouble breathing…”  
_Oh_. Stan knew what was going on with his nephew, mostly from his own experiences.  _Thank goodness he’s not alone though._ Stanley steadied himself mentally, and sat next to Dipper. 

“Mabel, give us a bit of space.” Stan requested gently, hoping she wouldn’t protest. She sniffed but  seemed to understand and  moved to the corner of the bed to give them room.  _Thank you sweetie_ , Stan thought, before turning his attention to the shaking boy.

“Hey, kid. You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?” Stan kept his voice soft and even. Dipper jerked his head from his knees and stared at him. His expression flickered to surprise and then relief. Stan was a bit confused by that. 

“Y-You’re…o-okay?” Dipper managed to stutter.

Now Stan was really confused. “Okay? Yeah, of course I am kid, I’m right here.” He gestured to himself, staring at Dipper uncertainly.  

Dipper whimpered, hugging himself tighter, fingers digging hard into his skin. “Y-You were…. Bill c-captured you… and  I c-couldn’t help… he…” Dipper let out a sob. “He was h-hurting you… then he  _killed_  you…”

Stan drew in a sharp breath, and he heard Mabel do the same. So that’s why Dipper seemed so relieved to see him.  _Damn the triangular bastard to the pits of hell_ , Stanley thought, dark rage coiling within him.  After a few moments he realized his fist was clenched, white-knuckled on the bed sheets.  _Calm down, Stanley. Getting angry now won’t help anything._  He  pushed the anger aside, and instead focused on Dipper. The most important thing at the moment was trying to get him to calm down. Stan tentatively put a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. When he wasn’t shrugged off, he placed both hands on his shoulders and gently turned the kid toward him. “Dipper… look at me, kiddo.” 

  
Dipper obeyed, his body shaking with sharp sobs. “S-Stan… d-don’t go, you c-can’t or…” His voice was shrill and panicked.

“I’m right here…. it’s okay. I’m here.” It was strange for Stan, having someone this scared for him. He could reassure the twins that nothing would happen to  _them_ , and he would mean every word of it. But Dipper being terrified  _for_  him? That was a different story.  Stan would do anything to protect them, and if that meant sacrificing his soul to a triangle demon, he would do it. So no, he didn’t know if he would be okay, but he continued to murmur the words to Dipper. At least for the moment, they were true.

“Nothing will happen to me… shh…it’s okay…” Stan gently wiped Dipper’s tears with his thumb. The kid was still drawing in uneven breaths, his eyes wide and petrified. It seemed like he was still lost in his own head.  _He’s gotta calm down…_

“Dipper, I want you to listen, okay? Jus’ follow what I’m gonna say.” Dipper didn’t answer for a moment, but then nodded miserably.

“Okay. Scootch over here.” He helped Dipper lean back against his chest, so he was practically in Stanley’s lap. Mabel who was respectfully quiet through everything, watched Stan with curiosity. Maybe she was surprised that Stan seemed to know what to do in a situation like this. Honestly, he was surprising himself. Punching zombies in the face was one thing, but comforting a scared child? It was mostly unknown territory for him. 

“Great. Now I want you to breathe through your nose, hold it for a few seconds, then let it out through your mouth,” Stan instructed softly. He kept his own breathing calm and even, so Dipper could mimic it as he leaned against his chest. Dipper closed his eyes, and worked on copying Stan’s breathing, although his body was still seized up with his own harsh gasps. Dipper’s  trembling hands suddenly fumbled out and found Stan’s large calloused ones, clutching onto them like a life raft. Stan was puzzled for a moment, but realized the kid wanted to make sure he wouldn’t vanish in a puff of smoke or something. The elderly man smiled a little at that. He gently squeezed Dipper’s hands, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. It was odd, but he felt a swell of pride in his chest that Dipper was listening to him, trusting him, working on calming himself to the best of his abilities.

They inhaled and exhaled together, and Stan continued to encourage Dipper through the breathing exercise. He kept his voice soft but it still seemed rather loud in the silence of the attic. “Three seconds…. let it out…there you go… you’re doing great, kid….” After a few more minutes, Dipper’s breathing was back to a normal rhythm. He pulled away from Stan, wiping his face on his sleeve.

“Thanks…” he whispered. Then he looked down at the floor shamed-face. “I’m sorry…” He was embarrassed about losing control. Stan knew how he felt, and it broke his heart.

“It’s all right, Dip… everyone gets nightmares, and everyone can get scared. I’m glad you feel better.” Dipper smiled tiredly up at him, but it dropped quickly. Stan sighed. He knew that the nightmare would be with the kid for a long time, and that the images would haunt him. Every particle of his being wanted to save Dipper from his mental torment, but he knew he couldn’t do anything. He hated feeling helpless, so instead burning anger replaced it. If  he ever saw the dream demon, he would kill it with his bare hands. 

“How did you do that?” Mabel’s exclamation broke Stan from his thoughts. “Nothing I did seemed to help him. And I always know what to do!”

Stan sighed and ran a worn-out hand over his face. He suddenly felt the exhaustion catch up with him again and seep into his bones. “I’ve had panic attacks before in my day…it’s…not a fun experience. But I learned some tricks to deal with them.” He stood up, his back protesting with a pop, and shrugged. “I’m just glad it seemed to help." 

Mabel looked intrigued about this nugget of information about Stan’s past, but to Stan’s relief didn’t ask any more questions. She seemed to sense this was something that he wasn’t going to divulge anything more about, and it wouldn’t be an appropriate time to ask.  The girl could be very perceptive when she wanted to be.

"You gonna go back to your own bed now, sweetie?” Stan asked her. Mabel and Dipper glanced at each other, some sort of twin telepathy going through them. Stan felt a sudden pang of sadness, but ignored it. Mabel shook her head. “When one of us has a nightmare, we usually sleep in the same bed.”  
“I see.” Stan tried very hard not to think about how he and his own brother would do the exact same thing when they were little. Dipper and Mabel sometimes reminded him a little too much of him and his brother, and it always struck a deep gaping wound within him. 

The siblings snuggled under the covers together. Stan couldn’t help but smile, his own sadness dimming, replaced by affection. They blinked in surprise as he tucked them in, making sure their blankets were comfortably situated around them. He paused for a moment, then leaned forward and gently pressed a kiss on each of their heads. Mabel giggled happily and Dipper looked confused but he smiled. Maybe he didn’t complain because he was homesick and missed his parents. Stan normally wouldn’t have done something like that, but for some reason he was feeling particularly paternal that night.

“Get some sleep, ya little gremlins,” he said softly. He turned to go but he heard Dipper clear his throat. 

“Um, Grunkle Stan? I-I was wondering if… ” He glanced nervously at Mabel who rolled her eyes. “Geeze, just ask him Dipper!  He wanted to know if you could sleep in here tonight? You could use my bed!" 

"Just for tonight,” Dipper added quickly, eyes fixed on the wall, face red. He obviously hated feeling like a little child, and it took a lot for him to muster up the courage to ask.  

Stan stared at them for along moment. “Okay,” he answered simply. It wasn’t a bad idea. Dipper would feel better with him there, and honestly Stan would feel better as well. He didn’t want to admit it to himself but seeing Dipper fall apart like that had shaken him to his core. He wanted to make sure his nephew was safe for the rest of the night. 

“Yay, a sleepover!” Mabel squealed excitedly 

“No,” Stan groaned, rolling his eyes. “NOT a sleepover, they provide the exact  _opposite_ of sleep. And you munchkins need sleep, so does your old Grunkle Stan.”

He climbed into Mabel’s bed, and rested his head on the pillow. It smelled oddly of jellybeans and glue, and multiple stuffed animals cluttered around his feet and head. Even so, laying down in a bed hadn’t felt this good in a long time. He was suddenly extremely grateful he wasn’t in the basement that night. Not only to catch up on his sleep, but if he was, he wouldn’t have been there for Dipper. 

"Goodnight Grunkle Stan, sweet dreaaaammms,” Mabel sang to him. 

“Thanks Stan,” Dipper added softly. “Goodnight.”

After a few minutes the twins had fallen asleep, and their soft snores filled the attic. Stan lay there for a while, blinking back his tiredness, watching them sleep from across the room. They were peaceful and silent, and he was satisfied no more nightmares would come tonight. He smiled to himself, and closed his eyes. For the first time in a long time, he slept well. 

 


End file.
